Picture
by Grissom's-Plant
Summary: Sara is leaving Las Vegas to live with Hank. How will Grissom react? Rated R for later chapters.


Picture 

**Rating**: R

**Spoilers**: Anything in season 1-3. This is a stretch; takes place between 'Lady Heather's Box' and 'Crash and Burn'.... so that's One episode; 'Lucky Strike'. LOL. There are errors about each relationship, but I made it a little (barely)... different... to fit this idea. Sorry.

**Authors Note**: Not a songfic person, but here ya go... hope you likee!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Sara, Hank, Grissom, Lady Heather, anything else from CSI, or the song _Perfect _by Sheryl Crow and Kid Rock.

_July 14th, 1993_

Sara threw her head back in laughter. "You're kidding me! I don't believe it. I mean-"Sara glanced around as she spoke, but something caught her attention, stopping her mid sentence. Her laughing ceased as she looked down innocently, and then back up. Her eyes quickly glazed over in sadness, knowing what his presence meant. As soon as the look came, it went. She turned back to the people she was joking with and politely excused herself.

In her left hand she held her champagne flute, the other holding her dress. She had a few acquaintances with some very rich and powerful people and was often invited to black tie parties, though this was only the fourth one she'd been to. When she first met people she'd go to a party, only to decline to the rest; her studies never ended. Or so they thought. She'd accepted the invitation this time for one reason; he'd be there. He was leaving today. She had spent an hour every now and then crying. She'd miss him. Badly.

As she neared him she let her dress fall to the floor most eloquently. The dress had caught her eye in the store. There was just something about it. It was floor length, the top a fitted silver bodice. It stopped at the waist in a 'V', and the straps were sleeveless, with a little width to them. At the waist, it puffed out slightly. It was discreetly though, so not to look gaudy. It too was silver, with black trim. Her shoes were black and toeless, and she had painted her toenails silver. You didn't see them often; the dress was too long. But it looked much better for the odd occasion that you did see. Her hair had been perfectly manipulated into place with hairspray. It was curly, but not naturally. More wavy than curly, but still beautiful. One tendril on each side of her small face added to the sophistication, making her look well beyond her age. The last bit, somewhat her favorite, was her elbow length silver gloves.

He smiled at her and his blue eyes glistened. "You look magnificent Ms. Sidle. Radiant." She smiled and took a small sip from her glass.

"As do you. Suits are very appealing on you." He smiled back at her and nodded. He extended his hand to her and spoke.

"Would you allow me the last dance?" She set her glass down on the nearest surface and placed her hand in his.

"And the first." They walked to the middle of the crowded dance room hand in hand up high, almost regally. Once they reached their destination he stopped as she walked a little further to swing into him, adding to the regal-ness of it all. He clasped her silver-gloved hand and placed her other hand on his shoulder; next his went to her waist. They slowly swayed to the music, and Sara thought. She knew she was going to miss him; they had instantly bonded. They spent hours agreeing, jokingly arguing, and discussing anything and everything under the sun. They flattered each other on a mental level and she knew it scared him. She was 22; he was 15 years older. She was a student; he was her professor. They were on the same level mentally, and she couldn't deny that they were on the same page physically. However, they had both resisted, and allowed a sheet of sexual tension cover them. They couldn't be together, and yet they wanted to so bad. That scared her even. Before she knew it the song ended, and he leaned close to her ear.

"You don't have to be so proper around me, Sara." He leaned back and she couldn't help but glance at his lips. They hadn't even kissed! That was all she had promised to ask for for her birthday. A kiss from Gil Grissom. She looked back up at him and smiled.

"Don't I?" He smirked and took her hand again. "Where are we going?" He just looked at her and raised his eyebrows quickly. She laughed and allowed him to lead her. Once they were out of view he whispered in her ear to close her eyes. She did as she was told and finally she was told to open her eyes. She gasped, and then smiled. "Oh my god, this is so cool! Grissom, this must have cost a lot. We could have just used a digital." Grissom mock- gasped and she smiled while shaking her head.

"I want this to be the perfect picture." He said, indicating the photographer. He came over and placed them in front of the camera, and finally took the picture.

A car's honk cut through the air, and Grissom frowned. "That's your cab." Sara said, the 'at ease' pace they had replaced by sadness.

"Yeah. Well...you have my number, and I have yours...and I told them to send you a copy of the pictures. So I guess...I'd better...." Sara slowly shook her head, understanding.

"Yeah." She hugged him quickly and he hugged her back, until the second honk. "Las Vegas is really lucky I hope you realize." She smiled sweetly, and he leaned in, but turned his head quickly and pecked her on the cheek.

"So is San Francisco. By the way, congratulations." As he was about to speak again, a third honk cut the air. In silent understanding she shook her head, and he smiled. "I'll call you when I get back, ok?" She nodded, and he turned to leave. He walked a few steps, but turned around to say good-bye one more time.

But she was gone.


End file.
